


I would come back (1000 times)

by beepbedeep



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, and she's worried about them :((, katara loves all her people SO MUCH, kids who are healing from a Lot of Stuff, lots of trauma lots of coping!!!, with like? good reason??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29486355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepbedeep/pseuds/beepbedeep
Summary: Katara tries not to be scared, as a general rule. She’s brave, always has been, knows how to push back her fear and do the right thing, to ignore the tremulous voice in her head that whispers the wrong choices whenever she pauses to listen. It makes her a better parent, a better friend. But still, she worries.
Relationships: Aang & Sokka (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Katara, Toph Beifong/Sokka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	I would come back (1000 times)

Katara can’t believe they made it out alive. Some days, most days even, the thought pops into her head between persuading Kya to come inside and eat lunch, laughing with her new healers-in-training after a long day, in the heartbeat between Bumi jumping out of tree and his triumphant yell from the ground. She almost wishes it were possible to shake off, to leave in a corner somewhere and come back to when she actually _wants_ to open that can of worms. But, she supposes, it’s hard to forget who you are. She sees it in Aang’s eyes too, when he watches Tenzin and Kya race each other on the porch, whenever he goes back to the South Pole with them on one of many visits. Even Zuko feels it, although his side of the war wasn’t exactly what the rest of them went through, but when the _Fire Kingdom’s heir_ can’t make it out unscathed, you know it’s bad. 

And it scares her. 

Katara tries not to be scared, as a general rule. She’s brave, always has been, knows how to push back her fear and do the right thing, to ignore the tremulous voice in her head that whispers the wrong choices whenever she pauses to listen. It makes her a better parent, a better friend, a better wife. Turns out an ancient waterbender telling you how much you suck isn’t the scariest thing possible, that dark caves can be escaped from. She’d laugh about it, but she’s worried the sound would be too harsh, too biting, more like Toph’s when it gets late. The truth is, they are not ok. None of them. On the worst days she can look at her friends, her brother, her husband, her very favorite people in the world, and the healer’s eye she’s trained so well and all she can see is their shattered places. 

The day they defeated Ozai was stunning, sharp and clear and bright and Katara understands now how all that relief felt the same as happiness. Sokka’s laugh had been so much louder that day, and Aang kept tripping like he didn’t have the time to keep track of his body. Even Toph had seemed so _light_. Katara remembers her own urge to run around in circles, to do _anything_ to celebrate. After being on the run for so long, it had felt like distilled happiness, like justice. It was only in the weeks after that they’d realized, first Aang, then Toph, before Katara really felt it settle into her bones, they had so much more to do. After an ending comes a new beginning, new beginnings take someone watching over them and if no one taught their merry little band how to defeat an evil warlord _certainly_ no one gave them a map to rebuilding entire nations. The hardest lesson to learn was that wounds don’t heal just because the sharp object is pulled out. 

But of course, they threw themselves into that, all her friends working their hardest to help the world move on. Katara remembers the first time she went to a small Earth Kingdom village after the war, how she had expected to see everything be _different_ than the places they’d visited on the run, how nothing had really changed. It’s one thing to be sad for yourself, another to mourn the parents you lost and the teachers who were killed before you had time to learn. It’s entirely different to see village after village grieve, to meet an unending tidal wave of loss and desolation, to tell anyone _but it’s ok!_ in the face of that. 

Still she’s proud. She’s proud of her people, for refusing to stop fighting, for every community that lost something and still found the time to take care of one another, of this whole new world order. (She also knows how tenuous it is, she prays that it will hold.) But even here, firmly in the aftermath, devoted to rebuilding, she is _scared_ for the people she loves. Even between Aang’s near constant trips away, her taking the kids back to the South Pole on a regular basis, Sokka’s overwhelming duties and Toph’s unendingly hectic schedule, they all see one another fairly often. (Even after all this time, Katara loves her friends – _her family_ , more than anything.) 

And just a few nights ago, kids falling in upstairs rooms or running by the water, Sokka had taken a long drink while nodding at something Aang said with an unusual amount of bitterness and Katara had seen the planes of their faces so _sharply_ , a look that isn’t gaunt, but heavy, world wearied, too old. And Toph had taken her hand, always the heartbeats-tell-me-how-you-feel psychic, squeezes, _don’t worry Sweetness. Cowboy and Boyfriend are just fine_. But Katara is a healer, a mother, a professional worrier, and she’s just not that sure. 

Bumi’s taught her a _lot_ of things, how many different ways a kid can complain about the way food is cut, how young people can be relatively indestructible if they make a habit of throwing themselves around enough, but the most surprising takeaway over the past eight years, first Bumi, then Kya, and finally Tenzin, is how _small_ they are. Kids are delicate, even the loudest ones, they need hugs to survive and back rubs to fall asleep. Katara has never felt particularly small, especially not back when Aang popped out of the ocean but looking at her kids now, all of the kids in her life (whom she loves, so much) Katara can’t help but think about herself all those years ago, when her mom died, when her dad left, when she got the ability to do something that might get her killed, when Aang popped out of the ocean to whisk tiny-Katara and tiny-Sokka away from everything they knew. 

They were all so _young_ , thinking of Sokka at fifteen and Toph and Aang at twelve – they were older than her babies are now, but still children. _Children_. 

And then all the pain they carry makes more sense to her. 

The war was _awful_ , for almost everyone who was a part of it, and they were especially involved. It’s always felt so _cool_ , to have made things better like they did, but Katara wonders if they should be more upset at Ozai, at Roku, at everyone who let things get so bad. She thinks of Toph, kept in a gilded cage by parents who couldn’t imagine their blind daughter surviving in a world under attack by a bloodthirsty warlord. Toph still has those scars, hides them from new people but lets Katara see them now, lets Aang ask his questions. Katara’s heart still breaks for her brave friend and her brother, how Toph’s old wounds have gotten in the way of their happiness too many times and _yes_ they’ve found their way through each one, but it should have been _so much easier_. For all of them. 

And Aang lost everyone he knew, _everyone_ he loved. Katara still can’t imagine that kind of loss, even after knowing him for all these years, but she holds him when he can’t sleep, when she sees his eyes flash and knows he’s imagining them all being taken away from him again. Katara’s not unaware, she sees how different he is with Tenzin than the others. But she sees him, the love of her life, with all this _weight_ on his shoulders, the legacy of an entire culture on his shoulders, how he messily hands it to the only other airbender he’ll ever meet again and she just _hates_ that all this shit is going to hurt her kids too. 

_Oh_ , her kids. She and Sokka hold so much of the same pain, their mom’s death, their dad’s absence at an all-too-important time, their people’s staggering and calculated loss of all their benders. Katara hates that her brother hurts like she is and still thanks the gods that she has someone to understand the heaviness she can’t decipher alone. And she knows they both leap up when someone starts crying at the same time, both go for their respective weapons when a noise is too loud, both _protect and protect and protect_ , albeit in different ways. Sokka takes care of Toph’s girls ( _his_ girls, Lin in everything but blood and Su in everything, each girl equally loved) the same way Katara holds her own kids close – watchful and attentive, as involved as possible, these little people have to know that they are _protected_ , that people are _looking out for them_. She wonders if one day they’ll be called smothering, if their small charges will get a little older and demand a little more space. 

Probably not for Sokka, at least not for years and years, Lin and Su adore him and Toph’s “let the kids breath, Cowboy!” attitude (Toph loves her children just as much as any of them, even if it’s a little harder to see, Katara knows this like she knows how water feels in her hands) provides an equal balance – but _spirits_ they’ve fought so hard for this equilibrium. And Katara knows Bumi might want more space in a few years, is prepared for Kya to slam a door or two in her face, but for now she holds them as _close as possible_. And none of this seems too bad, Katara _understands_ that. They’ve come a long way from the alcohol-and-freedom fueled breakdowns of their youth, when Sokka would retreat so far into himself that even Toph couldn’t get him out, when Katara couldn’t bring herself to bend without having a panic attack, when Aang would leave for days and days without notice and come back looking like he hadn’t slept the whole trip, when Toph would scream and send a cliffside tumbling down. 

They’re older now, better at living with all their aches, and (hopefully) a little less broken. But still, Katara thinks they might have put some pieces back wrong. And still, she worries. All their shards are still around, and they’re getting _older_ , which sounds insane because none of them are even that close to 40 yet, but some tiny corner of Katara’s mind can’t help but worry that this might kill them. 

She’s worried that their sharp edges have been buried for too long, that they’re still lurking and dangerous as ever, like a piece of glass that shouldn’t be in anyone’s bloodstream. 

They’re all carrying too much, too many people, too many things to fix, too much responsibility and too much pain. She’s so _worried_ , worried about when Tenzin gets a little older, what’ll happen to Toph if Sokka ever has to leave the city and go all the way home, if she’ll be able to help her kids grow up. And it might just be too late to change any of this. So instead, she holds Aang’s hand as tight as she can when he meets a new set of dignitaries and traces patterns on his arms as he tells her about all the new things he has to fix tomorrow. She visits home as often as she can so Sokka can stay with his girls and makes sure he comes over for dinner as often as possible so they can tease one another the same way they’ve been for their whole lives. She hugs Toph every chance she can get, makes them tea and leans into Toph’s cackle as they swap parenting mishaps. 

It’s not enough, none of it is, but it’s the best she can do. It’s something. (And really, she needs the hugs just as much.)

Besides, yes, Sokka has new shadows under his eyes every time she sees him and her knees have started to ache on long days, but their lives are accompanied by so much laughter, so much hope. They’ve been together, the four of them, for as long as anything has mattered. They have a home made by Aang’s grin, Sokka’s warm embraces, and Toph’s sarcasm. Katara sees her husband pulled apart by everyone who needs him, but she also sees how Zuko take as much as he can off Aang’s plate, how Sokka handles what the city needs, how Aang still smiles at any opportunity. 

And Sokka’s back might be more bent than ever, he might get a nasty cough every winter and let the exhaustion shine through his eyes in a new way, but he also runs around the island with the kids, swinging Lin up onto his shoulders at every opportunity and laughing at each of Bumi’s new jokes. Even Toph is softer than Katara’s ever seen her, quicker to drop her guard around all of them, comforting Su over a new scrape and praising Lin for her schoolwork. 

Katara _loves_ her family, she trusts them with her life, with the lives of her children, and so she pulls back the curtains to let the sun through, makes sprinklers for the kids every summer and holds them as close as possible. And honestly? It _works_.


End file.
